Pretentious Professional Liars
by nonoji
Summary: Post series. Things never work out as planned when your opponent is just as capable of deception, and when the lies start piling up, enemies and allies become increasingly harder to distinguish. Kurama, Yuusuke, Conan and Kaito centric. Cameos from Durararara!
1. Chapter 1

_Preface and warnings_

_Hi! Thanks for taking an interest. As I wrote in the summary, this is a Yu Yu Hakusho/Detective Conan (+ Magic Kaito) fic with a Durararara! cameo crossover. I'll try very hard to be true to the canon details and when they diverge, the original source (manga, manga, and light novel respectively) will take precedence over anime except perhaps in superficial details such as voices, hair and eye colour. The Conan movies will also be taken as canon since I can't resist the crazy exchanges between the smallest detective and the magician thief. _

_This fic may get a higher rating later on, but that will be for the themes it deals with, rather than sexual explicitness. I would be more specific on what these themes entails but that would be spoiler and besides, seeing the series I'm writing for, I feel it would be a little redundant. __Still, people are expected to make clear that they are writing fanfiction within a site for fanfiction, so I suppose the right thing to do would be to state the obvious, however much I think of it as an insult to people's intelligence. __**I do not own anything.**__**Warnings for man-eating demons, language, and general lack of tact when dealing with sensitive issues.**__ Needless to say the characters in this fic won't be pushovers, and even the heroes will occasionally walk over the moral line. There. That wasn't painful at all. I also won't be making these disclaimers with every upcoming chapter._

_Pairings won't be central to the story but since emotions and relationships play a vital role in motivations, they will exist, and they will be fluid. That means your otp may get together, but they may split up in the next chapter. And then fuck someone else. Also, both het and slash will be present. I'll warn one chapter in advance for pairings, if people would prefer me to do that. I can't warn any earlier for the first chapter so I'll just write here that this starts very heavy on one sided Yomi/Kurama._

_Still here? Whoa, I admire your perseverance. I personally hate long author notes._

_One more thing then. This is set in the early noughties. The Spirit Detectives are mostly in their mid twenties, Kuroba Kaito's graduated high school and Izaya, Shinra and Shizuo are primary schoolers. _

* * *

Pretentious Professional Liars

Through the arched window, he could see the distant clouds dissolving into mist. Even further if he focused his eyes, was the central city of Gandara where the sky was forever night and flashed with recurrent thunder. The area they were currently in was still unofficially Yomi's, though in comparison to the rest of his country, his influence and colour was conspicuously lacking. Just a little further downstream from their main water source and they'd be at a gate to the human world, one of many guarded by Mukuro's patrol.

The place had a genial, comfortable sort of charm. The surrounding villagers lived in shabby wooden huts rather than the trademark stone skyscrapers, and the weather had variation but was satisfyingly predictable. Here, plant life had a chance to develop.

It was telling of the ruler that he would choose to build his summer palace in this specific location. That was an old message, intentional or not, which both the giver and intended recipient chose to ignore for the present moment.

"Kurama," a voice called, making him turn away from the view. Yomi stood by the door looking the same as ever, his expression at peace while his actions said otherwise. There was no way to tell how long he'd been there.

Though it was nowhere close to an exact replica, the architecture of the palace had obvious influences from Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, made so by Yomi's ego wanting to live in a place designed for human worship. Curved and tall, it looked more a miracle of nature, rather than the truth being that it was built by hand. The interior attempted to coordinate merely in association by its being of Spanish design; symmetrical and elaborate, elegant colour schemes complimenting the arabesque patterns. They were rather an excellent visual distraction, which was the reason Kurama had his eyes beyond the door and onto the corridor rather than on the speaker. It was not that he had any definite basis to avoid looking at the affable ruler, but he found from experience that it was easier to mask his reactions this way and since he was at a definite disadvantage by having no clue why he was here this particular time, he decided on acting with caution.

Cautious, but not evidently so. His youko form had the merit of containing no heartbeat, meaning it was one less way for Yomi to read him. But would it be worth it to give Yomi the satisfaction of admitting his weak position? No, of course not. Not even worth considering. It was metaphorically the equivalent of a housecat hissing at the Loch Ness monster. Besides, it would be jarring for their pretence of this being merely a social call.

"Kurama," Yomi repeated, "you look well. And growing back your hair, I see."

Two sentences and already two references to his lack of vision. The needling was a firm sign that their topic of conversation would be one of significant exploitation. Kurama pinched a lock of hair, leaning back against the windowsill absently and finally letting himself fully face the demon.

"When I decided to work at my stepfathers company, I thought it respectful to at least look the part. Actually working there made me realise I stand out regardless." He shrugged, letting the strands fall back against his shoulders. If he sincerely wanted to blend in, he supposed he should have dyed it as well. Either way, no one seemed to care as much as he had expected.

Not aging since graduation was more of a problem, however.

Yomi laughed. "And here I was, thinking it was you letting go of your weapons and retiring from conflict."

And broadcast it to the world? Dramatic, aren't we. He sighed, quickly tiring of their pretence at small talk. This was one of his more indulgent reasons why he had kept his relationship with Yomi strictly platonic. It used to be forceful gropes without warning. Now it was lukewarm foreplay that wasn't going anywhere. If conversing with this man was this hopeless an experience, actual sex must truly be torture.

"I'm here. So," he prompted.

"So, you're taking very good care of them. I heard that wasn't always the case." Yomi nonchalantly slid his hands from jaw to the nape of his own neck, demonstrating. After a little consideration, he moved forward, daring him to object to the closeness. He left his hands around his neck, barely a breath away from contact with skin.

He had nowhere to move with his back pressed against the window. The only option was to remain still or to be bold enough to push Yomi away but without knowing his position, he wouldn't dare and likely, Yomi knew that as well.

If Yomi was going to be so obvious about it, there was no reason he should not return the favour. Subtlety did not seem to come to the either of them for the moment. "How is your son? I haven't spoken to him for quite some time."

It was rectified immediately but he was delighted the moment he felt fingers tense involuntarily.

. . .

"How is your son? I haven't spoken to him for quite some time."

It's more refined than a smirk, but far more malicious than a mere smile; a quiet change of expression, unintended to be observed but nevertheless there. He could feel it, the air changing as Kurama slowly but surely took control of the conversation.

Yomi supposed that to go beyond mere beauty and into attraction, there needs to be a certain level of sensuality and for that, there needs to be heat. Heat could come from many places; emotion, ambition, or merely from the way one moves, the intent behind the voice, the way one goes about attaining their prize.

The youko Kurama had been utterly cold. He was the sort that had nothing to lose. To be described as such usually implied that they had once lost something dear, and that deep down was a sentimental romantic but when applied to Kurama, the phrase had a different connotation. The man simply did not value a thing in his possession and very likely, never did. Thieving seemed only a means to stave off boredom and it was not uncommon for their loot to be discarded as soon as they escaped from whatever pursued them. He was beautiful and powerful and at that particular point in time, that was more than enough to become a subject of obsession for Yomi.

Now though, this weak Kurama was warm. It is only now that he realises the foolishness of lusting after something that might as well have been carved out of marble. The youko Kurama had been a rarity in those days because he was not yet strong enough to associate with anyone else as skilful as the fox was. Yomi didn't know it then, but Kurama was far from one of a kind.

This seemingly compassionate Kurama however, that smiled frequently and spoke with playfulness was the most beguiling thing in the environment Yomi himself had created. Kurama had a potent allure, despite and because he was disgustingly complex and juxtaposed by the commonness of frozen void he used to be. He still had that old coldness, but he hid it beneath layer upon layer of superficial gentleness, genuine kindness and calculation. It was a juicy temptation to scratch, irritate and dig out that ruthlessness to the surface.

This attraction was exactly the reason why he found himself angry. At himself, at Kurama, at the whole situation.

The first betrayal, the assassination attempt as of itself he'd come to terms with long ago, but to reunite only to find Kurama willingly associating with a group of young, inexperienced, hot headed weaklings that acted on instinct and even more unforgivably, seeing him actually enjoying their company had hurt him beyond anticipation.

Because it was criticizing who he was, yet again. He'd spent almost a millennia suppressing his nature, always acting with Kurama as the template to what he should become. Detaching himself from any situation to look at it objectively had saved his life numerous times and that affirmed he was on the right track. Even now, he was sitting atop an unofficial throne made of careful political manoeuvring rather than from the brawns it took to outright win the Makai tournament. All the same, it only took a moment for Kurama to crumble his conviction just by demonstrating his altered, refined, existence. It made him wonder how he would have been received had he remained unchanged after all those years.

So how was his wilful, outspoken, unrestrained little clone that he treasured more than anything in the world?

"I suppose you haven't seen him since the last tournament. He's doing quite well, growing into a fine heir."He let his hands fall a little, nearly brushing down against Kurama's upper arm but again, not quite touching before placing them back up and arranging them around his neck.

Kurama raised his brows, amused. "Actually, I've talked with him every so often when he comes to visit Yuusuke." A slight pause for feigned contemplation before he goes on, "or perhaps sneaking into the human world would be a better way of wording it, judging by your expression. Is it about this, then? The reason for my being here."

"Well, if you want to get right to the point then yes, I am quite concerned with Shura's lack of care. As a parent, I can't help but worry that he'll be easily influenced."

"I thought you approved of Yuusuke."

"Not Yuusuke," and they both knew that.

"Me then? You think I'll corrupt your…" he trailed off, tilting his head to expose his neck from his high collar. It was enough provocation for Yomi to draw even closer, taking in Kurama's scent. His hands finally made firm contact, clawing at the opening of the Chinese style garment.

"You are playing with my buttons," Kurama observed.

"Blind man's privilege," Yomi replied lightly, but he slowed down nonetheless.

"Let go," Kurama breathed, "or you might break them."

"I have very good control," he demonstrated, tracing a finger around the very top button, a little higher than his right collarbone.

They stood there, each silent in their own rapid thoughts until Kurama broke it with a small laugh, "I had begun to suspect as much ever since the tournament, but you really are reverting, aren't you?" blissfully ignorant of the precarious subject he mindlessly went on, "the problem is, you haven't considered how …delicate this fabric is."

"Oh?" it was all Yomi could manage.

"Yes, you would likely rip the fabric before my button comes off. You see, this particular material is specially made in a village located in Myanmar. They peel strings of fibre from the stems of lotus flowers and kneed it, dye it, and weave it with their traditional handmade instruments to create a fabric far more costly than silk. It is a fastidiously delicate process, and the livelihood of their third world makers." He paused before adding, "They are said to be the inspiration behind the hagoromo robes of legends."

"The ones where the heavenly maidens shed their cloaks to bathe, only to later find their clothing stolen, unable to flee and at the mercy of human men?"

"Well yes, though that isn't the part I wanted you to focus on."

"Then what was your point?"

"That my body is covered in lotus. Lotus, symbolising chastity, purity, and," -he gently removed Yomi's hand from his chest and stepped to the side, just out of reach- "non-attachment. I will stay away from Shura. Was there anything else? I really do need to get back, if you wouldn't mind." He started to move towards the door.

"Things don't always revolve around you, Kurama. You're not that highly valued." It was a transparent lie so easy to dismiss, and he regretted saying it the instant he finished speaking.

"I know Yomi," was the simple reply.

He could see it, the serene lotus distancing itself from the muddy waters of its origin. Yomi made no move to stop when Kurama left the room.

It seemed their discussion was over.

* * *

_A/N: Blugh. I haven't written in so long that my confidence has gone on a journey of self discovery and is lost somewhere in the Amazon. I welcome you to tell me what I'm doing wrong. The next chapter will probably be up sometime next week. Ciao, ciao!_


	2. Chapter 2

Under the streetlight, he could see the air he breathed turn white. Shiori used to describe it as dragon breath, which he vaguely remembered had amused him as a child. "It's quite cold for this time of year, so I brought a little treat." He ducked under the flap of the ramen yatai and jiggled the bottle in his hand as greeting.

"Shōchū! Cheers Kurama," Yuusuke grinned as he watched his friend take a seat, "gimme that and I'll get it ready."

"What is it?" the occupant of the other seat asked.

Kurama turned to him and shook his head in exasperation. "Shura, really. You know you shouldn't be here; it makes your father worry so much."

The admonishment was said half heartedly and thus was ignored completely. "What is it?" The boy demanded.

"It's alcoholic, and no, you're not getting any." Yuusuke sounded paternal, which surprised even the speaker.

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"It's a drink. What answers were you hoping for?"

Kurama smiled in a placating manner, and deemed it was time he should interfere. "Awamori shōchū. It's a distilled alcoholic beverage traditionally made in the southern regions of Japan. This particular brew is from Okinawa, and made from rice though it is equally popular for it to contain a base of barley or sweet potato. I would try to dissuade you from trying it, but as alcohol has no effect on youkai of your class, I see no reason you shouldn't. And Yuusuke, let the boy learn. It's good that he's curious about the culture here."

Shura looked disgruntled to be treated as a child. He likely expected more respect from him.

"Whoa, you think I'd know all that?" Yuusuke turned to add a batch of noodles to the boiling water and began to prepare the drinks. The iron teakettle he'd taken out looked well maintained but old and by old, Kurama estimated at least pre-Muromachi era, if judging by the materials used. These sorts were not quite within his speciality but it was sure to be a costly little thing, as unlikely as it was for it to be here, at a portable ramen stall. It was sufficient to heat the drinks however, so Kurama did not bother questioning its presence. Instead, he casually brushed his hair out of his eyes to which, he received twin looks of suspicion. Perhaps his hand had strayed a little too long for their comfort.

After a moment, Yuusuke shrugged and went back to his work of ladling in concentrated soup to the serving bowl. He ladled in a second soup, this one much lighter in colour than the first, and stirred it together with his cooking chopsticks. He checked the noodles again and seeing that they were ready, he scooped them out and shook them, draining away the moisture. The noodles joined the soup, toppings of soft boiled egg, green onions, menma, and corn were added before Yuusuke paused his hand, frowning. "Huh, I've run low on meat. You'll get one slice less, so you want something extra to make up for it?"

Kurama shook his head.

A plastic box containing a packet of nori came out, and from it two pieces were selected to be artfully placed on top of the whole dish. A finishing touch. He resealed the rest, careful not to let them go stale. "Here we are. One Tokyo ramen."

With a look of satisfaction, Yuusuke lifted the steaming bowl to the counter. His expression changed. "Oh and Kurama, before I forget, Kaitou's been calling me since he couldn't reach you. What's all this about babysitting?"

Yuusuke placed the kettle on the counter, which Kurama took to pour into three ceramic white cups. The one with the smallest amount, he placed in front of Shura. Yusuke looked about to protest, which prompted Kurama to distract him. "Ah. I was planning to go tomorrow, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave quite soon if that is the case. You see, there was a certain tree I needed secure while I had to leave for the Makai." He could feel the questioning gaze from the cook as he observed Shura taking a curious sip.

"Tree?"

Kurama waited, noting the effects of the drug rapidly taking over the child. Eyes drooping, wavering posture, yes, it would come any second now. "Yes Yuusuke, one that you've witnessed the effects of." He wouldn't say further until-

Thud. Forehead crushing onto the counter followed a second later by a soft snore.

Yuusuke's head snapped at the sound, body automatically tensing for battle. After a moment he reluctantly unclenched his grip on the pot he had lifted which was quite a foolish first instinct, as he knew he fought infinitely better bare handed. Perhaps he was getting soft with the lack of real fights or perhaps, his next action would have been something completely unexpected.

"What the hell, Kurama?"

"The meeting Yomi requested me for was essentially to tell me not to 'influence' his son," he took a delicate sip from his own cup before continuing, "so I'm keeping my influence minimal."

"Passive aggressive, much?" Yuusuke raised his eyebrows but he didn't seem fazed or disapproving.

"To go back to our previous subject, the tree that I had left to Yuu was one I couldn't leave unattended. Seeing as so many demons are leaving and entering from there nowadays, it would be incomprehensibly stupid had I left it for anyone to see."

He took off his coat and scarf, draping it over Shura and checking his condition.

"Demons leaving and …You mean the Makai gate? You mean… man, you didn't make Kaitou guard elder Toguro for the weekend, did you?"

Reseating himself he quietly shivered, quickly reaching for his cup for warmth. "Why not? Inside his territory would be one of the safest places to exist. Perhaps even safer than in my care, in fact."

"That's creepy as fuck, Kurama! Why can't you just leave him there anyway? Not like we should give a shit what happens to him, right?"

"Because Yuusuke," he explained patiently, "there is always the possibility that someone may want to release him or even worse, attempt to take advantage of his abilities."

Yuusuke contemplated over his cup, then finally settled, began to drink. "Got any plans for the long term?"

"To be honest, no. I do have several ideas, but none are realistic enough to merit being called a plan. Of course, there is always the option of asking acquaintances in the Makai for assistance however… I would prefer not to owe favours I cannot return."

They both avoided glancing at the slumbering child.

Snapping his chopsticks, Kurama began to eat. Late night greasy food wasn't something he made a habit of and if it were not for Yuusuke, he doubted he'd have any experience of it at all. Even so, the noodles were good and he found his appetite increasing with every mouthful. He reached over and finished his drink. He barely suppressed a grimace. He poured himself another fill.

Watching him tuck in, Yuusuke lit a cigarette and leaned most of his weight onto the counter. There'd originally been four stools; three for the customers and one for the cook. Unfortunately, there was a drunken brawl between two humans last week that left two of the seats beyond repair, leaving him with no choice but to work his shifts without resting his legs. Not that it tired him, but he still didn't look exactly comfortable standing there.

"Hey, so why didn't you rush back to Kaitou's as soon as you came back? I mean you being here means that you've got nothing better to do, right? Pretty dick move, if you ask me. Leaving him with that thing."

Kurama took his time in swallowing his mouthful. Even once he'd finished, he did not respond immediately. He placed a hand over his lips in thought, and then lowered them in resignation. "There was an incident involving my stepbrother yesterday. I merely wanted to take time to refocus before going to what is bound to be unpleasant and besides, I have confidence in Yuu's ability to handle himself."

"Your stepbrother? What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. There was a police investigation however, and my lack of presence over the weekend has been noted. As I'm not technically involved, I highly doubt it would come to this but if you wouldn't mind, Yuusuke?"

"You went camping with me 'n Kuwabara," he promptly picked up. He then watched the big display of Kurama looking too engaged over the food to continue the subject, and asked anyway, "So what's this about?"

Kurama looked up in annoyance. "It's not anything involving the Spirit or Demon Worlds," he assured. "This is second hand information so I cannot guarantee the accuracy, but do you recall what I told you of Shuu-kun's current girlfriend? They bonded at the time of her father's death. Shuu was the first to come to the scene of the crime, and was made a key suspect."

"It's about that then? But it was solved wasn't it by that… whatsits name, that famous sleeping something."

"The Sleeping Kogoro. I would speculate that it would be one of the more straight forward cases that he has solved. The only remaining puzzle was the final location of the stolen weapon, but apart from that, everything was very clearly explained. No, this is a separate incident revolving the girlfriend and her mother."

Kurama began eating again.

Yuusuke stared, waiting for more. Kurama was very aware that he was making Yuusuke wait, and also that Yuusuke knew he was aware. He continued to chew on, regardless.

Patience finally running out, Yuusuke poked him on the forehead. "Go on."

"The second case has also been solved. It's all a matter of paperwork and confirmations now."

"Kurama, why are you so reluctant to talk about this?"

"I am not; I merely don't have much information on this matter. As you know, I have been away. I am not withholding details by choice."

Yuusuke hesitated, became restless and fiddled, which meant he was about to talk about Keiko, or he was about to talk about Keiko. There was also the third possibility which was- "You know I'm here for you if you've got yourself into trouble. Even if it's not Reikai or Makai stuff." He reached over and squeezed Kurama's shoulder.

Mushy, in the words of Kuwabara.

Sappy Yuusuke was a rare event, so much so that it battled with Hiei admitting confusion in scarcity. After all they'd been through, this was perhaps only the third time he'd seen it happen. Yusuke took action, rather than bothering putting things into words. Kurama gave a smile like he'd spotted a sprout of endangered flora in the wildness; an expression containing a little amazement, but mostly made up from pure gratitude that he had the privilege to witness it.

"Thank you. I really don't know more than I'm telling you though; I intend to find out tomorrow."

"Good, and you're gonna tell me if anything bad happens."

"We'll see," answered Kurama, and Yuusuke knuckled his head in exasperation.

For a while, they remained like that in companionable silence. It was comfortable, and reminded Kurama of the days spent recovering from the first tournament, when the team minus Hiei occasionally got together without having a specific goal. It never went to the point of becoming routine, but the times spent like that were relaxing, and Kurama had savoured it. It did not last of course, with the opening of the gate then everything else that followed. It was only recently that they'd resumed their old meetings.

He blinked several times from his own musings. Sentimental. The drinks were getting to him. He didn't particularly care.

"This was delicious Yuusuke, thank you very much." One last time, he refilled his cup –from the bottle, the alcohol diluting kettle being abandoned a while ago- and gulped it down and stood to leave, sliding the bill towards his friend.

"That good? Well, I know I'm pretty decent compared to Keiko, but you're either exaggerating or you haven't been properly fed."

"Come to think of it, I don't think I've had anything since yesterday morning. I can never get much of an appetite while in Yomi's company," he went on mostly to himself, "something relating to being sniffed by ex-recreational human eaters though I admit, I may have done the same a lifetime ago."

There was something in the way Yuusuke looked that made his full attention turn to what he was talking about. He had thought Yuusuke did not mind the bluntness, but perhaps he was more sensitive than was given credit. He made his way to his seat again, not quite sure what to say.

"Hey, I was wondering…" Yuusuke began, a little overly casually, "does uh…things taste different in your youkai body?"

It wasn't a question he expected. He pondered over where this was going before he replied, "yes, though it would be difficult to define, or express into words. Neither is superior to the other though strangely, my preferences stay much the same. Do your taste buds react differently to when you were fully human?"

Sighing at that, he rubbed his head. "I didn't notice it at first. It's sort of changing gradually, like in waves." Seemingly dissatisfied, he frowned. "No actually, that's not quite right. Like some things taste the same, but others just turned gross. Then sometimes I wouldn't notice it, and other times it would be obvious. You know Raizen ate humans, and it's not like he had a choice." He waved his hands irritably and continued, "Well he did, and in the end he chose uh, not to. And I'm supposed to be the same as him. But I feel okay for the moment, and I don't have any urges to gnaw on random people. So I've been wondering if eventually, I'll have to um…"

"Resort to cannibalism for survival?" He didn't like where this was going. No, not at all.

"Yeah, and Hokushin didn't make sense when I asked about it."

"You have nothing to be concerned about." He stopped to breathe, the trepidation so strong it made the contents of his stomach rise up to his throat. He swallowed. He would talk, because Yuusuke's concern was valid and he respected his friend enough to assure him with the truth. "Even after your rebirth, you have been able to utilize Rei Gun; a burst of pure reiki. I think that should be sufficient evidence that you will not have to share that particular characteristic."

"I don't get it."

"Essentially, you are digesting your own reiki. The ability to use reiki proves remnants from when you were human exist and therefore, you are able to take nourishment much in the same way as ordinary humans. Your demon side runs on that human energy, so it becomes unnecessary for you to feed from external sources."

"So I'm self charging."

"In a nutshell, yes. I hope that cleared your concerns. "

"Hang on, but the old man had to physically eat people didn't he? If all he needed was reiki- I still don't get this, Kurama."

It had been years since that day, the death of fully human Urameshi Yuusuke and the birth of whoever he'd grown into. He was apprehensive at first, but the lack of curiosity had coaxed him into a false sense of security that the question would never come or at least, not come to him. Kurama covered his head in his arms in an unusual show of frustration.

"Damn it Yuusuke! I know this is important to you, but I refuse to lead you in this direction while you are not aware of the consequences. I am sorry, and I will fully support you if it comes to that, but I will not explain this myself."

The awkward silence that followed was broken with a tentative "um, you alright?"

He looked up. "I apologise. I suppose I'm under a lot of stress. "

"And drunk."

"Slightly," he conceded. At the look he was given, he continued, "more than a little, then."

"Tell that to your hangover tomorrow."

He was being unreasonable, and he knew it. Part of him wanted to tell him, just to see where it would go, but another understood the value of keeping the peace. Perhaps a hint then, though he was sure to regret this when his head was feeling less intoxicated. "Yuusuke?"

"Hmm?"

It was so very tempting. It was at the tip of his tongue. Only one simple sentence and he would be out of this state of limbo.

Decision reached he made himself smile, opened his mouth, and widened his eyes in surprise a split second before splattering vomit between his legs.

* * *

_A/N_

_In regards to hagoromo from last chapter: the more traditional interpretation is that the cloaks are made from feathers (the name says it all-'ha' feather-goromo), but since tenyos are heavily associated with lotus flowers and I do recall this minor theory, I thought it acceptable enough to use in my fic. For people interested, I would say the western equivalent of the story is of the swan maidens and selkies that shed their skin and end up temporary married to humans only to return to where they came from by the end of the story._

_For the sake of simplicity, I've had Kurama refer to Kaitou Yuu by his first name. Later on, Kuroba Kaito will be making prominent appearances and he makes enough confusion that I don't need to add to it. _

_A few more chapters will take place in Hakusho verse before I switch to the goings on of Conan's group and his merry list of unlikely mysteries. _

_Beta? Anyone want to beta?_


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing he noticed was the uneven motion of being carried. The air smelt of somewhere in Makai. A warm back, arms firmly supporting him. Voices drifted quietly to awaken him to full consciousness.

"Like I care."

"You say that, but you always care."

"I've got nothing to say to you."

"So you really don't know why Kurama was acting weird? Like weirder than usual weird?"

"Why would you think I do?"

"He was being all cryptic and shit, but I mean it wasn't just that. It was almost like we were talking in different languages. I kept asking him stuff and he'd answer, but he-"

"Shut up. I said I don't know and don't give a fuck."

"But-"

They froze, their attention as one turning towards him. He wondered what gave him away. He made sure not to jump his youki and kept his body relaxed. Father would have been proud of how quiet he'd been even when caught dazed and disorientated. Oh. The most basic of changes -breathing pattern, he realised belatedly.

Yuusuke was the first to speak. "How're you feeling, Shura?"

"Let me down," he commanded as he pushed against the arms holding him. Straightening soon after, he noticed he was in a forest. There was movement to his left which he recognised as Mukuro's toy; the grouchy short one with funny hair. Dismissing him as unimportant, he faced Yuusuke, who stood in the same clothes as he wore at the ramen stall. By its smell, he could tell it hadn't been longer than a day.

The drug, for he was sure his loss of consciousness was not an occurrence that had come naturally, seemed to carry no ill after effects. He inspected his surroundings further. From what he could gather so far, he was in a clearing surrounded by the southern forest of upper Makai and they had been travelling in the direction towards his father's city.

What bothered him now was why it was Yuusuke and not Kurama that was taking him. Yuusuke, as much as he acted like one, was not entirely stupid. He would know his father would be displeased at having his son returned to him in this condition, whether it caused long term effects or not. It would be common sense for the obvious culprit to explain himself, rather than the witness. So why would Yuusuke go to the trouble of facing his father and souring their alliance? Kurama could be manipulative but from what he knew of their dynamic, he did not want harm to come to Yuusuke. That would imply that Yuusuke took this on voluntarily which in turn, indicated he wanted to be in the favour of the fox.

"How long have you been fucking Kurama?"

"What?" the toushin looked taken aback and noticeably disturbed. Stock still expression remaining on his face, he stood there for a while longer, a look that made Shura reconsider the estimate of his intelligence.

It was fairly simple to guess what Yuusuke was thinking. If Shura were human, he'd probably be about eight to ten if judging solely from appearance. Mentally, there was no way to tell, though he was confident that he had at least more maturity than the two in front of him.

Measuring him against human standards was ridiculous to begin with, and an offence to his fine genes. One day, he would make comparisons of that nature a crime worthy of beheading without trial.

Shura sighed, demonstrating how clearly frustrated he was with Yuusuke's slowness. Pointing, he explained, "He does that too when he thinks. You two share the same habits."

Lifting his fingers from his mouth, Yuusuke stared at his palm, and then slowly lowered it to his side. "I have Keiko. We're friends, and I'm not gay."

There was so much wrong with that statement, the main one being that Yuusuke had no shame in admitting he was copulating with a human. Someone would need to warn him eventually, but Shura didn't need to deal with it. "You don't need to convince me. It's what my father thinks that matters."

The short one made a sound of disgust. He turned away and left.

. . .

It was a little past three hours later when Hiei arrived to sit by a window, observing the inhabitants of the Mushiyori house with his trademark expression of apathetic disdain.

The cramped room with the humidity of the tropics smelt faintly of fertilizer and was as hot as he remembered. Watching the condensation on the glass run down, he placed a palm on the window and gazed inside. Pottered plants lined his vision and guarded the door. Music was playing, and though he did not recognise the human singing, he considered it as bad taste on par with Kuwabara's heavy metal compilation cds. Beside Kaitou Yuu was a floating soul. It flickered unsteadily and changed colour from blue to a deep purple then back again. Kaitou paid no heed to it, too busy typing on his desktop.

Kurama sat in the middle of the room, back facing Kaitou, isolated from clutter with his arms resting on the vaguely Baroque gold leaf encrusted armrests and his legs crossed, an ankle dangling. He gestured to the folders on the coffee table, "The draft is quite good. Most of the information was correct, though there were a few details you need to keep in mind." he reached over and flipped through the pages. "Here, for example when you refer to the clans along the outskirts of Luggnagg, I would be careful in grouping the indigenous struldbrug with…" he looked up as the door opened, "Suzuki! What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were back on this side of the world, here for research?"

"I thought you said your name was Takahashi," Kaitou said in mild surprise. He turned away from his computer to give the new arrival his full attention.

"I was Suzuki the Beautiful until I lost to Genkai. I go by Takahashi the Mad now."

"The mad?"

"Takahashi the Mad Scientist. It's catchy, it's memorable," he added.

"Whatever makes you happy, I suppose," Kaitou said, adjusting his glasses to give time to regain composure.

Kurama leaned back towards Kaitou and whispered confidingly, "Just remember him as Suzuki. Everyone refers to him as such. He even entered himself in the Makai tournament with that name to avoid confusion." Without waiting for a reply, in a louder voice he asked, "So how did you two meet? I'm sure there's an interesting story behind this."

"Well actually, I'm not sure. He only came just a couple of minutes before you arrived, begging to use the bathroom. Care to enlighten?"

"Was told you needed help on that," Suzuki flapped his hands to the general direction of the notes scattered on the floor and the neatly piled writings that Kurama had read earlier.

"By who?"

"Yusuke. He's my sole financial sponsor for my current project, so it's hard for me to refuse. Want me to go look through it? I know you've got the walking talking living encyclopaedia over there doing that already, but different fields of expertise and all that and besides, it's always better to have different opinions."

Kaitou looked to Kurama for confirmation and regarding his expression as too impartial to be satisfactory, he frowned. "Wait, so who are you again? You obviously know Urameshi and Minamino, and you're obviously a demon and on good terms with them. It's still not enough for me to trust your help."

"You know," Suzuki started conversationally, "I personally hate being referred to as demon. Negative connotation. It kind of makes you think of Makai as the human's definition of hell, if you consider it the origins of us 'demons'. Now youkai, that's different. It's still not a neutral term, but at least it doesn't put us in boxes in accordance to some human religious image."

"Wow. No intention meant for offence."

"Yeah I know you didn't. It just bugs me, you know. I can't help correcting these things sometimes."

"Right."

Making more noise than was strictly necessary, Suzuki dragged a seat to the coffee table while Kurama followed him with his eyes. "So, mind if I look through this?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Kaitou said albeit with reluctance, and for a brief moment the room was filled with silence. Kurama handed over the file he'd finished with to Suzuki and gathered a bunch of off the floor to stare at before giving up, closing his eyes and massaging his temple. He groaned and slid further back into his chair though his legs remained neatly crossed.

Kaitou considered the two curiously. "So what do you call yourselves if youkai and demons aren't politically correct?"

"Makaian, Makaijin, Mazoku or Youzoku. However, it is more common for us to define ourselves by our species rather than calling each other in a universal term meant for all sentient beings living in Makai. Demons and youkai are the equivalent of us referring to you as tellurians. I wouldn't call you that, unless I was not from Earth. Same with Gekai and Joukai or in English, Lower Level and Upper Level of Makai. It is so general and broad that only outsiders would categorise our lands as such. So as a native of this world, I would call you human. As a native of Makai, I identify myself as a youko, Yuusuke a toushin, and Suzuki would be…"

"A genius," contributed the self proclaimed genius.

"…Well, I won't bother arguing over your claim, but for the most part, the fundamental problem with the classifications are that they were made by the Reikai, and as the Reikai tends to look down on us as inferior, the words are considered a derogatory signifier." With that, Kurama twitched a finger towards one of the plants by the window and picked a leaf to chew on when it grew speedily towards him. It must have given him some relief for it was not long before he was dozing.

With a frown on his face, Kaitou continued to observe Suzuki, which in turn made the Makaian shift uncomfortably.

Abruptly, the human spoke, "what's your opinion on that, so far?"

"I'm actually pretty impressed. Well researched and easy to read. Even the dumbest of our kind will have no trouble understanding this. How are you going to get this published, though? From what I understand, most humans dismiss the ones that openly admit to not being one of them as mentally ill and are still in denial of our existence."

He waved it off. "This'll be published as a parody. I'm not even asking my editor to take this seriously. She's going to get quite the surprise when this turns into a surprise hit."

"I bet. What's the title?"

"Demon's Guide to the Human World." He had the decency to look sheepish.

"Ah, don't worry about it. Most of us aren't as educated I am-" "-Or as sensitive," Kurama interjected, "and the ones that are wouldn't be interested in reading stuff they already know. The majority of us wouldn't care whether you call them gods, devils, or anything in between."

"Other than Reikai's bitches." Kurama smiled though his eyes remained closed.

"Of course, nothing could be worse than to be called that," Suzuki grinned back. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask, what the hell is that?" He pointed to the glowing soul.

"That's the removed soul of a once human currently youkai immortal that can consume other people's abilities."

"Talk about super villain of the week. What do you mean, removed soul?"

"Oh, he was far more pathetic than a true villain, or so I heard. More like a super powered minion on a rampage. As for the soul, it's the result of not obeying the rules in my territory."

"Interesting," Suzuki said while he scrutinized the floating light, "and what would I need to do to be considered breaking your rules?"

"Speak the words I make taboo. You must have seen the sign tacked on the door when you came in."

"That sounds incredibly useful. These territories- are they a common attribute for humans to have? Last time I checked, it was strictly Makaian."

"Meh. I think we started cropping up shortly before the opening of the gate. Up until then- well. There could have been for all we knew, but not enough for people to take notice."

"I like how you said we. So you have a lot of acquaintances that have these abilities? Do you think they would participate in a study to further understand their abilities? I knew coming here was a good idea! I've come across a gold mine."

Kaitou looked a little unnerved at the sudden enthusiasm. Chill and detached was his ambience of choice and anything too passionate made him instinctively retreat. "I'll need time to consider. In the meantime, why don't you tell me of your current project?"

Happy to have found a willing audience, Suzuki's head bounced with the eagerness of a child.

"I'm looking into controlling growth."

Kurama jerked up at that. Straightening, he weaved his fingers together and pressed mouth to knuckles, a good mimicry of a prayer but for the gleam in his eyes.

This was more than enough for Hiei. He broke the window open and landed on the table, his short stature letting him stand without hitting the artistically grotesque chandelier. Without cutting eye contact with Kurama, he growled out a low "get out," to the other occupants of the room.

Kaitou stood, took a step away, and then glanced towards Suzuki. The youkai shrugged, crossing his arms, taking his time in leaving. Taking that as queue, Kaitou sat back down. He cleared his throat. "Hello Hiei, you do know that I now own this house and it would be more logical if you were the one that left."

"I said, get out."

"Right, right, I'm leaving," Kaitou shuffled passed then turned to Kurama for one last word, "we never really leave high school, do we?" He shut the door quietly after Suzuki.

Hiei glared at their retreating backs, he glared at the papers he was standing on then finally, he returned to glare at Kurama. The fox looked tired, resigned, and only mildly curious, which did nothing to alleviate his temper. Moving deliberately slowly, he slid his katana out of its sheath and pointed the tip to his once teammate's jugular.

"How do you want to die?"

* * *

_An: Struldbrugs of Luggnagg- from Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels. I chose Luggnagg since its supposedly located near Japan, and the immortals of that island are just too interesting not to make as inhabitants of Makai._


	4. Chapter 4

Suzuki wandered around the corridor, which was a strange sight to observe as well as being impressive in its pointlessness since it was a corridor, to reiterate a point already established. It was a narrow, straight, ordinary corridor that connected one room to another and had no other purposes other than for practical purposes.

_No other purposes other than for practical purposes_.

What a maladroit phrase. If it had come from anyone else, he would mock it to the ends of- damn, he obviously needed a break from writing; even his internal monologue was beginning to downgrade to the levels of a middle schooler daydreaming of a manga enhanced fantasy world with a distinctly pornographic bent. No, of course he was not referring to his own wet dreams from his student days. His dreams were far too sophisticated and full of witty punch lines for them to be the kind to have blood rushing down south.

Or something.

How had he gone from disoriented Suzuki's to pubescent dreams? His brain needed caffeine to make any more sense out of the jumble that was caused by staring at the monitor for far too long.

To return to his observations of one biker boots stomping bleached blond hair styling acquaintance of Minamino's, Yuu concluded that the man had a knack of being entertaining without actually having to make the effort of doing something. Really, there wasn't enough space for wanderings, or looking philosophical, or whatever the hell the youkai or Makaian or insert preferred epithet (genius?) was currently engaged in. Nevertheless, he strolled to and fro from one side to the other in an impossibly amusing way of his until eventually, it came to him that it was better to just ask for directions.

"Got anywhere we could sip tea, look civilized, and pretend like we weren't kicked out on our butts by a midget?"

He should really ask him to at least take off his shoes. There were slippers at the entrance that were bypassed earlier in his hurry to get to the bathroom. Fluffy pink bunny slippers that would just be the icing on an already hilarious cake. Then again, he didn't know this guy too well, and the brief talk from earlier revealed he was surprisingly easy to offend.

Meh, not like this place was spotless to begin with.

"Not sure about the civilized part, but we could go to the kitchen and poke at stale biscuits?"

"Good enough," he said, and they both trooped off to the kitchen.

. . .

Youda always asked whether he had fun with the day's training.

Training with his father was never _fun_. Fun wouldn't be so serious. He found it satisfying however, and of late he could tell he was getting closer to becoming a capable opponent. He'd actually been able to make his father raise a sweat and not just anyone could do that. If he went on to improve with his current pacing, theoretically he'd be on equal footing in say, ten to fifteen years. Everyone told him that it would be quite the achievement and he agreed; his father took a little longer than two centuries to get to where he is now.

Wiping himself with an already damp cloth, he began his ascend up the stairs to the regular rooms where the servants stood waiting. He nearly bumped into his father when he turned the corner, and slipped down a step when he attempted to readjust his balance.

"How was it?" his father asked.

Though he'd anticipated the question and tried to prepare, the fact remained that a decent report needed information. Were he more careful, he could have stood here with pride. "I met Kurama on the third day. He spiked my drink. I don't know what happened after that." It made him feel so inadequate, admitting this.

"Did you make contact with him before then?" Seeing his son resume his climb up the stairs, he stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "No, we need to talk about this here."

Shura turned back, biting his lower lip. Utterly useless, pathetic. Apologizing wouldn't change that making one mistake had triggered a domino effect of slip ups, all because he could not keep his concentration. Of course they needed to talk about it here; the training area was one of the few fully sound proofed places in his father's castle.

"At the time of my consciousness, Suzuki was nowhere in sight." That was one thing he was sure of, at least.

"But it would only be a matter of time before he starts to make his presence known." He paused, waiting for his son to resume his report.

Still sweaty and rapidly cooling, Shura sniffed once, twice. He rubbed his nose and thought desperately for something to say.

The hand on his shoulder tapped lightly in question.

The feeling of failure, the pressure, it was getting to him so easily. Shaking his head, he tried to focus. There must be something, anything, just a tiny little thing. Rapid scenes of the past few days replayed in his mind. The deserted forests, the paddocks, streets illuminated in spots of white, jumping between slanted roofs, the narrow alleyways, the smell of garbage, laughing Yuusuke cooking his noodles and Kurama with his wide guileless eyes. The drink, why did he take it?

"Shura?"

He opened his eyes. He had not even realised that he had closed them, which alarmed him more than anything else he had done so far. What if this had been a fight? What if this was in front of an enemy?

Finally, after considering the lack of reply with a tilt of his head, his father went on, "you'll need to return there, and report back when you find the locations of his items. Don't attempt to steal it before telling me all you have found out. In fact, I don't want you to do anything other than confirm where it is."

"Am I still going to pretend you don't approve of me going there?"

"If Kurama and Yuusuke think you are rebelling against me, it would be another factor for them to ease into trusting you. Of course, I doubt Kurama will take things at face value, so you will need to think of a secondary reason for you wanting to be near him. I'll leave the details up to you, but whatever reason you decide on, don't reveal it until he's backed you into a corner or it won't convince him of its authenticity."

It took a moment for Shura to organise his thoughts, and a little longer to articulate them into words. By the time he spoke, he felt calmer, in control. "Father, what I don't understand is why we simply can't buy the fruit from Suzuki. He won't refuse. He has no reason to refuse. We are being overly cautious. "

"We can't risk anyone knowing that I may become vulnerable."

"But he wouldn't tell, and he wouldn't take advantage. It would affect his business reputation if he broke confidentiality with a customer, and he wouldn't dare pull something when he knows how strong you are."

"Information relating to any weakness in my position would have offers that would tempt him, despite the risks. As for reputation, you weren't born when he followed Kurama out to join the first Makai tournament. They -all six of his followers- have never since looked back, let alone cared how it may have looked."

He drew his son closer, bending down to his eye level to emphasise the importance of what he was about to say. "More than anything, you need to make sure that you are removed from suspicion. Nothing can be traced back. I will have you take a servant to use for communication, but it goes without saying that contact should be kept to the bare minimum."

Shura nodded, but made no further movement. A niggling something at the back of his mind bothered him enough to reach for his father's sleeve. Yes, between the two demons on his return. He could share this. It was a trivial thing, but it may become important in the long run and if not, he would make it important, somehow. It could redeem his faulty actions. It might even become impressive key knowledge if he played things well. "There was one more thing. Yuusuke seemed to think Kurama was acting strange, and that Hiei would know the reason."

"And what did Hiei say?"

"He left straight after."

"What would you conclude, based on that?"

"There is no reason to think he would know of our plans, so there must be something else that has Kurama distracted."

His father smiled.

There was an oddness to his expression that left as soon as it came. As much as he respected and loved his father, in that instant with the way the shadow cast across his face, he felt an indescribable need to move as far away from him as possible.

"I'm proud of you," his father said, and he was back to being the level headed king he knew.

. . .

This was rather awkward.

Suzuki wouldn't shut up. Not that the subject matter was boring, but it was just that he was way too tired to understand the words coming endlessly out of that really big mouth.

He talked of one thing then another without really connecting the content in any discernible way he could follow. First about ancient Makaian motorways, which led into the merits and demerits of sludge worm energy powered communication devices, which meandered into Upper Level massage parlour practices, which became even more confusing when he decided to simplify using absurd metaphors of cognitive umbrellas and oil lamps. What? Was he being propositioned?

Or perhaps the oil lamps were used in relation to the next subject, the spiral staircase theory.

"Here's the thing. The most widely known concept for us is that our plane is constructed in a spiral," he announced, drawing yet another inch closer to his nose while twirling his fingers in rapid enthusiasm. "To go down a level, you either need to dig a hole or travel in a large circular slope though both aren't really practical since Makai is so large and unexplored that not much is known for the route to go down, and you probably wouldn't notice if you were going the right way anyway since you wouldn't feel like you were travelling downwards in the same way you wouldn't notice the earth is round just from travelling from Osaka to Tokyo. Oh, and you'd probably meet some nasty guy that'll kill you on sight for shits and giggles before getting anywhere in the first place. And digging isn't practical since yeah, it's kinda dangerous with the things living below the surface, and let's not even consider how long it would take to dig through anyway. Also-"

It should be physically impossible to talk that fast. How did this guy have time to breathe?

"-but this stuff is still considered controversial to the isolated tribes like the koorime, and it was revolutionary when it was first brought up since it's supported mainly by another theory that goes along the lines of basically saying that our genes were originally human world based, and that youki made us evolve into what we are now. See, most of the gates that connects this world to mine exist in the highest parts of our 'spiral'. Coincidentally or not, the higher the spiral, the closer everything becomes biologically to your world. The lower you go, the harder it becomes to distinguish whether something is a living organism, cognisant, corporeal, pure energy, or anything in between. The energy itself is different to youki down there, which started the ongoing debates on how broadly we should define youki in the first place but then it got political and you can imagine the rest- blah, blah, my race should be considered superior since our youki originated at ectsetera, ectsetera."

"Etcetera," Yuu found himself correcting.

"Yeah, that. There's also all these archaeological studies that prove there were heaps of human settlements ages ago but that's boring, so you don't need to hear it. This biscuit is really good by the way."

It seemed a good time to interrupt, so Yuu stopped the continual flow with a raised hand. "I need to write this down." He left the kitchen, only to find himself being followed by a still rambling youkai three steps behind.

"Yeah, you could put all this in your book! I mean it's good as is, but some of it is biased with Reikai propaganda, especially in the anti soul eating parts. Kurama should have said something if he was helping out. Hey, shouldn't you knock?"

Yes, he should have knocked.

He was greeted with the sight of a murderous looking Hiei standing on the table and a Minamino that was either crying or laughing, he wasn't sure which. "Hawaii," Minamino managed to gasp out before collapsing in a hiccupping hysterical fit of shaking that was definitely out of his usual calm character.

A pause.

"Excuse us for interrupting," spoke Yuu. He stepped back, adjusted his glasses and shut the door as quietly as he could.

* * *

_A/N_

_So sorry for the delay. _

_First of all, I don't know if you've noticed but taking the advice from that first commenter, I changed the rating from an M to a T. I'm not willing to move this from the crossover section since this is definitely a crossover regardless of there being no overt Conan action so far, but I used the suggestion on the ratings since I can easily move it up to an M if needed later._

_Second, my confidence needs some work and on a related note, this chapter also needs more work. I have two more yet to be posted chapters but until I find a beta, I'm afraid I may not update. No, this isn't one of those 'review or I won't update!' sulky threats, I'm honestly not happy with the quality. I'm incredibly excited about the plot I've planned but I don't think I'd be able to do it justice with only my shoddy writing skills. Don't worry! I'm asking over on livejournal so it probably won't take long._

_Third- thanks for the favourites and alerts! Encouragements are always met with squees of glee and happy wriggles._

_How bipolar was this chapter? Awkward mood shift is awkward. _


	5. Chapter 5

Mukuro made herself known the second Shura left. Beneath her cloak, she was covered head to toe in monk-scribed ofuda that muted her scent and distorted her energy. It was the same paper talisman that she used to keep daily in the times before Yuusuke's proposed tournaments, and though Yomi supposed the visual impact would be conspicuous, the powers the things emitted overrode it so that only the most sensitive would be aware of her presence unless she willed it otherwise.

A muffled rustle caught his ears as she carefully adjusted her hood. Wise enough to know not to make physical contact but needing his attention without causing much sound, she placed a finger on the wall and quickly wrote her intentions, assuming rightly that he could decipher her writing by the rhythm of the strokes.

He nodded and led her to the closest private room to their current location. Coincidence or fate, it happened to be the Japanese style tatami room where Yuusuke informed him of Raizen's death and Kurama announced his leaving.

As she entered Mukuro gave a cursory glance, snorted, and then thumped down on a cushion without invitation making a soft whoosh as the air squashed out. He sat opposite her, and began to prepare tea. Nothing special and by no means a tea ceremony, but he knew she wouldn't care. It was more as something for him to do than a sign of any formality.

"I hope to find that you had no difficulty journeying here."

"It was fine," she said dismissively.

He never would have thought that there would be a time where they would sit in his tea room to admire the flower arrangements, but here they were, sipping idly on lukewarm matcha. Neither of them were good at causerie, so the atmosphere rapidly deteriorated until there was nothing but thoughtful silence. He could almost feel the wasted time trickling away.

The woman put down her cup and straightened minutely, a sign that they were going to talk actively.

"So correct me if I'm wrong -you've sent your son on a wild goose chase to the human world and told Kurama to fuck off from him to pique his curiosity, consequently making Shura's work harder than it has to be because you needed some way to make his 'mission' feel legitimate, and of course there's nothing more trying than to have a paranoid fox barring his every move." She tapped her fingers together and regarded him closely. "There's also the additional benefit that by having Kurama take interest in your sons' actions, you're essentially guaranteeing Shura's safety, if perhaps in exchange for his freedom and privacy. Can I ask why you went to all this trouble? He's your blood. If he doesn't yield to your will, you make him and no one can legally stop you."

He couldn't help but smile at that. She was sharp at reading others, but too blunt in nature to use it to her advantage. Such a shame, now that they were allies. He would need to check later on the leakage of confidence and consider whether it was worth blocking or buying out. Mukuro was offering him a gift in the way of pointing out the existence of spies though in and of itself, it held little surprise. Yet appreciation could be shown by a return in similar fashion. Perhaps in the next meeting.

"I would be impressed with your information gathering and theories on my actions, but the mission as you called it is legitimate. I do have a reason for sending him there other than preventing him from turning into a potential hostage, but since it is irrelevant to our partnership, I won't divulge into the specifics. As for the reason I went about it in the way I did- well, my son has this strange idea of how a respectable demon must act and one of them is to never back down. Ordering for a specific action to be taken rather than ordering _not_ to stay in Makai gives more drive. A drive, a direction gives incentive not to look back. I suppose it's a form of misdirection."

"Supposing what you're telling me is true, I don't understand your logic of sending him into Kurama's area. That's practically a guarantee of him becoming a hosta- you know what? Never mind. As you say, it's your business what you do with him. Fuck all for all I care." She sighed and tipped her chin up, gazing at the ceiling. "Shall we go over our resources then? We first need to discuss where to place our priorities. What do you say, Pandora or Enma Jr?"

"Pandora, though Koenma would be the much obvious choice. A much easier target, especially as he plans on attending the coming Makai tournament. The last time had him with a measly two onis and one of those oar girls which I'm sure you'll agree is hardly bodyguard material. It is why I am apprehensive. He seems too vulnerable, unfit for his stature. I suspect that his protection is something not perceptible until activated."

"I would agree, but do you really think Pandora is worth the trouble? It's rumoured to be in the Human World and we have no idea what shape it has taken since leaving this plane. There are easier ways to gain power and its significance could be less than what we are assuming."

Yomi hummed. "True. But even if it's useless, the mere possession of it would have symbolic impact, no? It may lack significance now, but how would Enma react if he sees it in our dirty demon hands?"

"That's unlike what I expected from you. So you plan on announcing your stance as soon as we gain possession? No wonder you wanted your son out of the way."

"He needs to be safe. I'm simply the placeholder until he is of age. I know my own limits, and the ruler of a united Makai is outside my capability." Yomi paused, realising he was revealing far more than he first intended. Mukuro's frankness was rubbing off on him or perhaps, Kurama was right and he was returning to his original being.

"Assuming these lands will ever be truly unified and assuming I won't stand in his way."

"Let's not get hostile and get back on subject. So you disagree with searching for Pandora? As I said, Koenma would be the obvious choice though considering that Yuusuke and his group are still on good terms with him, it may get needlessly messy."

"They're neutrals, and won't get involved until they're forced which would be fairly soon regardless," she mused. "The question is which side will they choose? I respect Hiei enough that I'll kill him personally if it comes to that, but I can't see him siding with Reikai." Her tone changed from thoughtful to decisive, "we could force their hand by using Koenma's opinion."

Not quite seeing the train of thought Mukuro was taking but not willing to admit such, Yomi took a moment to refill her cup. He asked noncommittally, "would you care to elaborate? If you are suggesting using Koenma in the same way we plan to with Reikai, the chances of backfiring are high."

"I am saying," Mukuro said irritably, "that there are no reasons for Koenma to disagree with our stance. From the perspective of Hiei's little friends, it wouldn't be surprising if Koenma actually supported us and once we capture him, you and I both have our ways of achieving mind control, don't we?"

The proposal was practical, and even before he thought about it from different angles, the plan clicked. Instinctively felt right.

"So let us get started on the details."

. . .

Kurama stared at him, opened his mouth then closed it. He tipped his head to the side, attempting to discern the seriousness of the situation. What finally came out was a rather clumsy provocation: "my, have you shrunk, Hiei?"

The idiot fox was asking for it.

After noticing that the sword at his throat was pressing hard enough to break skin, Kurama used his backrest to flip, twisting in midair in a graceful curve as though moving underwater to land silently to a crouch, causing the chair to rock as he straightened. He aimed his energy to the hanging vine in the basket behind his opponent, the accelerated growth winding quickly around the chandelier and travelling further down until it reached the spot where Hiei had stood. Finding empty space, they slithered down and crawled over the table, spreading rapidly until the whole floor was covered in green. They began to ascend up, climbing the walls, the shelves and the desks, protecting and securing everything into place.

With a burst of heat, half the room turned to blackened char. A belated bang from Kaito's anti violence territory resounded, activating and bouncing back the damage leaving the interior in its previous condition. The vines wriggled a retreat before attempting to regain lost territory, but the slight hesitation was enough of a distraction for Hiei to make his first hit.

Kurama just barely had time to lift his grass sword and staggered back as impact crashed into him. The two swords crossed, making a grinding sound as they slid lower to stop near the hilt.

Sparring in this peculiar space meant every move had to be calculated. Travelling quickly from one space to another was allowed, but sudden movements in close proximity to another were counted as violence, and was thus prevented by the characteristics of the territory activating. Momentum had no place here. Every strike had to be from pure physical exertion.

Hiei grinned, then grunted in frustration as he found his katana enveloped in ivy that transferred from the opposing sword. They shrivelled up not able to withstand the emitting heat, but no sooner had the leaves flaked away, new growth grew over them repeating the process. He shook his katana, trying to dislodge the dangling grass blade while Kurama with a flourish, took out his trademark whip.

"Fun!" the fox cried, looking delighted as he prepared his next move.

Hiei gave him a look he reserved only for observing foolishness beyond his tolerance (which was admittedly a frequent occurrence) and lit his sword, throwing away the withered remains of Kurama's weapon. He had to admit, he was enjoying this just as much as Kurama. The redhead's fighting style was the complete reverse of his own- while he made his every move efficient and direct to cut on time, Kurama fought as though it were a dance, using seemingly unnecessary motions to conceal his real motive. The difference in style made fighting more diverting than a structured duel and this being years since their last contact, things were even less predictable.

"Stop wagging your tail, you're wasting time."

Kurama twisted back to check himself, and then made an exaggerated act of confusion.

"I'm talking about your whip, idiot."

"Oh. Of course you were. Because your eye line is higher than that, perhaps- " he had just enough time to make a motion of measuring his waist to Hiei's height before having to use both hands to block off another attack. He staggered back, grinning and raising his arms for the next strike when all of a sudden, his knees buckled. Looking up bewildered from where he sat, Kurama returned his whip to a rose and showed his palms in surrender.

Hiei's frown deepened. After one last push with his sword, he stepped back and waited for an explanation. Kurama, who had earned his respect at the measly human age of fourteen, having at that time barely enough youki to register as a demon, was having trouble enough that he lost his balance with something as easily avoidable as was his last attack.

"Kurama, what the hell is wrong with you?" He had been doubtful when Yuusuke said something about the fox acting odd, but he was beginning to suspect it was true. "Your energy is unstable; I can see it fluctuating." Even as he said so, Kurama's youki flickered.

His own observation gave him the revelation before Kurama opened his mouth to reply. Not that he could see exactly what Kurama was planning, but he got the basic idea. He repeated his question, this time disgust replacing the hint of worry he allowed his voice to reach earlier.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He raised his arm and pressed the tip of his sword to the same point on Kurama's neck as he had done earlier, and watched as his shirt collar began to stain red.

"What do you think I have done?" Kurama said in his irritatingly mild voice.

"Don't give me that. I may not have your nose, but I can still smell the tension." He pressed deeper into the cut. "The worst part of this is that you're doing it because you're bored. You don't even have a valid reason. Why would you want to break what you have now? I would have thought you more than anyone would want things to stay the way they are."

Still calm, sounding like he was reasoning with a child, Kurama patted himself with a handkerchief to stem the blood and spoke, "Hiei, I'm not asking for change, but sometimes it is inevitable. And you're misunderstanding; I haven't taken any active action. I'm only trying to obtain a better view so that I can understand where I'll stand." Attempting to dislodge the blade but finding it not worth the effort, he remained sitting, resigned.

"And that's your bad habit coming out again. Just this once, you could take the first action against the enemy. Fight it or ignore it, don't acknowledge it then retrieve passively."

"Koenma is not our enemy. I would have done much worse in his place in fact, I thought him empathetic to our cause to the point of it being a weakness. Do you not recall him putting Yukina's rescue a priority case, or will you say your presence was unrelated?"

Having nothing to say to that, Hiei sheaved his katana and turned to stare at his footing. "Hawaii," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"I will be taking a break in Hawaii. I need you to get me floral clothing so that I do not stand out to the natives."

He heard something suspiciously close to a snort.

* * *

_AN:_

_Ugh. Sorry for the delay. Still looking for a beta. This chapter was originally far longer, but I cut it for word count and for the sake of not squeezing in too much info. Hence ending on a place that doesn't make sense. _


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